


Wolf Spark

by paintpuddles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Angst Literally Everywhere, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, Bitch Kate Argent, Can I Marry Stiles Stilinski, Canon-Typical Violence, Conflicted Chris Argent, Dark, Darker Than My Soul, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Has Feelings, Everyone Needs A Hug, Evil Gerard, Gerard Argent Being an Asshole, Gerard Argent can die in a hole, Gerard Argent can suck my dick, Good Nemeton, Good Peter Hale, Hurt Derek, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Magical Derek Hale, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Morally Grey Allison Argent, Oh my god someone please kill Kate Argent, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Sterek is life, Stiles Stilinski Is Bae, adding tags as I go, lol at these tags, what is my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintpuddles/pseuds/paintpuddles
Summary: When Derek Hale calls upon the Nemeton for help, he is promised a rare and precious magical being to aid him: a Spark. He is expecting a strong, powerful creature with super strength and jaw-dropping abilities.Instead, out of a cloud of smoke steps Stiles Stilinski: 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones.Suddenly, Derek Hale finds himself placing the future of his pack and entire town in the hands of a gangly, sarcastic, hyperactive idiot who doesn't know what year it is, never mind how to defeat the tyrannical forces bearing down upon Beacon Hills. Stiles is not what Derek hoped for, but they'll have to learn to work together if there is any hope for them at all.***This is currently on hiatus until I finish my other fics***





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the Teen Wolf universe but there will be obvious differences/divergences from canon because I said so.
> 
> While not my first fic, this is my first fic on AO3. Inspired by all the awesome sterek works I’ve been bingeing for the last month! #sterekforlife
> 
> Warning: I deeply love semi-colons and overuse them with ridiculous frequency. I refuse to apologise for my punctuation addiction.
> 
> **Feel free to leave as much constructive criticism as you like in the comments. I am in desperate need of some honest opinions of my work!**
> 
> (Also, I shall be adding tags as I go)

The blade pressed to Derek's neck hissed where it came in contact with his skin. The silver dagger glinted under the ugly fluorescent lighting, the yellow glow of the ceiling strip lights offering little warmth in the cold, damp basement. Dark veins of wolfsbane were embedded in the blade, and they loomed ominously in Derek's peripheral vision. Small beads of blood trickled from the thin slice along the werewolf's exposed, vulnerable neck, the soft flesh falling victim to the merciless hand of Gerard Argent.

Cold seeped from the stone wall Derek's back was pressed against, and he resisted the urge to shudder. His bleeding arms were being pinned by two large, muscled men, and there were at least two bullets lodged in his torso. He could feel his body trying to expel the foreign metal so that the wounds could heal, but this was the worst he had ever been injured, and his young body was struggling. Adrenaline, fuelled by stress, pumped through his veins, and his heart hammered in his heaving chest.

"Where is my daughter-in-law?!" Gerard snarled, spit flying from his curled lips and his free hand wrenching at Derek's bloodied t-shirt. His enraged face was only inches from Derek's.

"I-I don't know," Derek stammered, his wide, wet eyes pleading for mercy. His lithe body, only 15 years old, shook in the tight grip of the older, stronger men. Perhaps against one of the brutes, he might have stood a chance; but a mob of angry Argents surrounded him in the dimly lit basement, and in his panic he knew there was no escape. His heart thumped harder.

"Liar," Gerard hissed. All composure had been torn from the old man's face; fury flared in his flint eyes. It was amazing and horrifying how love for family, something so pure, could morph someone into such a monster.

Gerard turned to the men standing behind him, who were silently pointing guns at Derek's thin, soft body. Behind the wall of armed hunters caging Derek in, he was shocked to notice a small, dark haired child hovering on the steps that led out of the basement. They looked just as scared as Derek felt. In a moment of childish naïveté, Derek hoped against hope that this tiny, innocent child would somehow save him from the monsters making him bleed.

Gerard's voice held a cold, cruel rage when he next spoke, slapping Derek's attention back to him. "Get the chains," he snapped, and something in Derek fluttered in terror. 

"Please! No!" Derek begged, but the hunter ignored him. The knife that was being pressed to Derek's injured neck was lowered as Gerard turned to bark at his men. The opportunity bloomed an innocent hope in Derek; maybe he could still, somehow, escape. He tried and failed to pull himself free of his captor's grip, his fingernails turning to short, sharp claws. It was the only part of the shift that Derek had managed to master; he couldn't even achieve the full Beta shift yet until he learned full control. Writhing, he tried to slash at the man holding his right arm but only managed a pitiful scratch. The hunter snarled at the attempt and slammed Derek's head into the wall. The whole world blurred and agony rocketed across Derek's skull. He rapidly tried to blink but couldn't see past the whirling walls and pounding in his head.

For a terrifying moment, everything blinked black, and all Derek could see was a pinprick of light that danced across his vision. 

When the room came back into focus, Derek was being handcuffed to an ice-cold metal chair. Heavy chains criss-crossed his chest, making it hard to breathe. Dried blood coated his arms, chest and neck, and the smell was starting to make Derek sick. He could feel bullets sliding around inside him, and the horrible sensation made his stomach roll. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to cry. He wanted his mother and her comforting embrace. He wanted to go home.

He wanted - no, _needed_ \- his pack. 

He could feel his link to the pack pulsing with panic and pain, and he knew it would be driving his family crazy with worry. He'd been snatched at the bus stop on his way home from school, completely defenceless against the group of Argent hunters. He didn't usually take the bus, but everyone had been busy dealing with the appearance of hunters in Beacon Hills, and Laura was home taking care of Cora, who had broken both her wrists in a fight. He hadn't been forgotten, exactly - he just hadn't been a priority.

It was the exact sort of opportunity the hunters had been waiting for.

There was a loud bang to Derek's right, and his head whipped around at the intrusive sound. His slightly heightened senses were better than a human's, but still not as fully developed as an adult werewolf's. The sound was loud enough to make his sensitive ears ring. 

A large, metallic box had been thumped down on a wooden table, a thick cable sprouting from one side and disappearing down across the floor and out of sight. Somebody was flicking switches and fiddling with the box, but Derek didn't understand why. He could see some of the men smirking viciously, and it was enough for him to know that whatever the box was for, it wasn't going to be good.

His eyes slid across the gathered crowd, who seemed to be anticipating whatever was coming with a mixture of anger and excitement. They were angry at Derek, and his kind; excited for the pain to come.

Derek's eyes locked onto the child he had glimpsed earlier, who was now standing in the shadows of a tall, confident woman. Her silent eyes watched everything unfold with apprehension, and Derek wondered if perhaps they were different than the violent hunters. Maybe they would grow up to be kind and good. 

Their eyes suddenly met, and Derek felt a strange, bizarre need to protect this innocent child from the violence of their family. Perhaps it was the obvious innocence that shone on their young face, or that they looked no older than seven or eight, but Derek wanted to grab the small body and run. He wanted to shield them from everything that was about to happen, make sure they never got hurt. The deep brown eyes staring back at his own reminded him of his younger siblings, and he felt the same need to shelter the child as he felt with his own family. He couldn't explain it, but the way the child stared at him reminded him of Cora, gazing up at him trustingly as she held out a board game to play, or a ball to kick around. The child was the only good thing in the basement, a lone purity in a vast sea of evil, and Derek latched onto the hope and humanity they provided hungrily. 

It was the closest thing to family he had in that moment, and he needed it. Tears slid from his eyes as he imagined Cora reaching one soft, warm hand and grasping his, whispering that everything would be okay, that mom would find him before they hurt him any more, that his pack loved him, would protect him and save him, that not all was lost. That he was going to be okay.

The child didn't stop watching from between the shadows of the hunters' legs, even when wires were hooked onto Derek's exposed skin and he realised with a tumbling horror that it wasn't a metallic box, it was a power pack and Gerard was going to electrocute him. They watched even as Derek struggled and fought, trying to escape before the hunters tortured him for information he didn't have. They watched as Derek cried, sobbing carelessly as someone bound his arms and legs to the chair so that he couldn't move. They watched and watched but did nothing, because they were a child, and they were just as scared as Derek, and because they still believed that their family were the good guys, as all children do.

"Please," Derek begged, "please don't hurt me. I don't know anything, I swear! Please! No!"

Derek cried out as Gerard pressed the knife against his tear-soaked cheek, slicing through the wet skin and searing it with the strands of wolfsbane twisted into the blade. Blood welled up and spilled down Derek's face like tears, drawing lines of pain down his jaw and neck. 

"Tell me where Victoria is," Gerard demanded, glaring at Derek with an ugly hatred that crumpled his face and hardened his eyes.

"I don't know," Derek cried, his shoulders shaking, "I promise I don't know. Please. Please don't hurt me. I don't know anything."

It was the wrong answer.

Gerard's anger exploded out of him, and the hand holding the knife shot forwards, embedding itself in Derek's torso, just beneath his ribs. A scream ripped out of him, agony shredding every cell in his body. Gerard pulled the knife back out of his stomach without warning, and the pain didn't lessen, but instead doubled, scorching through Derek's abdomen and reducing him to a sobbing mess. He couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Everything was focussed on the horrific pain coursing through his body that ate at him like acid.

The burning was worse than anything Derek had ever experienced before; worse than being punched or stabbed or shot. The wolfsbane clawed at him like fire, charring his insides and slicing at his muscles and arteries and organs. Bile rose in Derek's throat and he puked from the pain, acidic black vomit splattering across the floor in front of him as he shuddered. Every wretch of his stomach ripped new pain through him and he wept, begging in his mind for his pack to find him. The link felt weak, but he could feel his mother trying to reach out to him, to find him, and he clung to her faint calming presence desperately. He needed his mom, more than anything in the world. He needed her to come rushing through the door and save him.

He just wanted to go home.

"If you don't tell me where Victoria is right now, I'm going to make you wish you were dead. This is _nothing_ compared to what I can do to you, mutt."

Gerard's voice didn't hold even a scrap of sympathy as he threatened Derek, his knife dripping with the teenager's blood. 

The sound of a door banging open and footsteps running down stairs made Derek's heart swell and hope blossom in his chest. He could hear someone descending the steps into the basement, but the wolfsbane had weakened him so much that he couldn't detect even a hint of their scent. The hunters surrounding him turned to watch the person approach, but Derek couldn't summon the strength to lift his head to see over the crowd. His head lolled to one side, dropping down onto the back of the chair, sweat and blood and tears coating his skin like paint. 

His eyes once again found the child, reminding him so bitter-sweetly of his precious Cora, but not even their presence could comfort him now. The child shifted, hiding behind the woman's legs, and he caught sight of tears running down their face. The woman, a blonde huntress, bent down and spoke to the child, but he couldn't hear what they were saying over the murmuring of the crowd.

The new arrival broke through the ring of hunters circling Derek and approached Gerard, a phone pressed to one ear. They weren't family, or pack, or even a friend. He was average height, with short, dark hair and typical hunter clothes and weapons. They were a complete stranger to Derek, and in one terrible moment Derek realised that no one was here to rescue him.

Something deep inside him trembled, terrified that perhaps he would never be saved, but he refused to listen to it. His pack would come. He knew it. They had to.

They had to.

"Sir," the man said, drawing Gerard's attention, and snapped his phone shut. "We've identified the werewolf Kate's team captured. He's not Peter Hale; Peter is his uncle. His name is Derek Hale."

He glanced at Derek for the first time, and their eyes briefly met before the man's looked away, taking in the electrical equipment, blood and stab wounds. Strangely, he seemed surprised by Derek's appearance. He paused momentarily, then looked back at Gerard. "He's fifteen years old," he said quietly, eyes flickering to Derek again, "he's just a kid."

The man's words seemed to enrage Gerard. The older hunter surged forwards, clutching tightly at the knife still soaked in Derek's red blood. 

"Kid!? It's not a kid, it's a savage monster. Need I remind you that these mutts are the ones that kidnapped your wife? Who knows what they could be doing to her right now. What kind of torture? Perhaps even murdering her as we speak, tearing her limb from limb like the rabid dogs they are. Is that what you want? Will you let them mutilate your own wife because you didn't have the courage to do what was necessary to get her back? What is the code?"

"We hunt those who hunt us," the man replied tersely, jaw clenched.

"Exactly. And right now, they are hunting us. This isn't a game. This is war. I will do anything to get my daughter-in-law, my family, back." Gerard pinned the man with a ferocious look, challenging him. "Will you?"

The man's face seemed to close off slightly, as if he was slipping on a mask. "Yes," he retorted, his free hand clenching into a fist. 

"Of course you will," Gerard responded smoothly, forcing his anger down as a cool calm clamped onto his face, forcing his features into a false ease. He smiled the smile of a predator, patting the man's shoulder as if to reassure him. "We'll get Victoria back. Your family will be safe. We Argents protect what is important to us. We follow the code."

Gerard was no longer speaking to just the man, but the room at large. The hunters in the basement nodded in agreement, clutching their guns, knives and crossbows tightly. Dread welled in Derek's stomach, and he felt tears slide down his face, the salt irritating the cuts on his cheek and neck. His stomach was aching now, the pain only increasing with time, and when he looked down he could see a foul, black liquid oozing from his wounds like blood. The smell was horrific, and he wanted to vomit again.

Derek was vaguely aware that he wasn't healing, and his terrified brain reminded him that the wolfsbane would stop him healing completely until it was removed. There was movement around him, but he was suddenly struggling to register what was being said or done. He felt woozy, almost seasick, and the world began to sway dangerously. Blurry shapes came in and out of focus, and muffled noise seemed to swell around him like an ocean. It was overwhelming and terrifying. Derek was used to having a brilliant sense of sight and sound, and to have it ripped away was making him panic. 

He'd never felt this kind of cold before. Life seemed to drain from him rapidly, his breathing falling to shallow rasps and his eyelids drifting half-shut. He remembered Peter once telling him that a werewolf could survive a maximum of 48 hours before wolfsbane poisoning killed them, but with children death was faster. Derek wondered with dizzy detachment if he was going to die. It didn't seem like such a bad thing anymore. In fact, it was almost appealing; he'd take anything to escape the unbearable pain, the never-ending agony. Even death.

Something slapped Derek's face hard, whipping his head sharply to one side and making him whimper. He spluttered, coughing black liquid from between his lips and into his lap. He realised he was trembling, but from what he couldn't tell. A callous cold chewed on his bones, and pain speared his abdomen relentlessly. The slap brought him back to semi-awareness, and he blinked blearily at a blonde woman he didn't know. Gerard Argent stood to her right, arms folded rigidly, scowl as murderous as ever. The man with the phone had disappeared, and Derek realised the room seemed emptier than before, as if several of the hunters had left. He couldn't summon up the energy to wonder why - he just wanted to sleep forever. Even as pain coursed through him, he could feel himself slipping away, the agony no longer enough to keep him awake. Or perhaps it was no longer enough to keep him alive. He didn't care. 

The blonde woman grabbed Derek's face, pulling his head up so that his eyes met her's. Her nails dug into his cheeks, his wound weeping more blood, and she leaned in close, her eyes blazing with the same danger Gerard's held. "Where is Victoria Argent?" She demanded, wielding a small, sharp dagger close to Derek's face in a silent threat. 

Derek didn't respond - he couldn't - and when words failed to materialise on his lips, the woman snarled and let go of him. Derek didn't have the strength to hold himself upright, and his head dropped against the back of the chair, hitting the metal and rolling to one side. Another wave of pain rolled through him, his eyes blurring, and he barely registered someone moving towards him.

He blinked twice, and a small, round face came into focus. He stared silently at the child in front of him, only ten or twelve inches from his face, their own tear-streaked face staring back at him. The blonde woman's hands were wrapped tightly around the child's shoulders, pushing them forwards, towards Derek. He wanted to yell at the huntress to leave the child alone, but he couldn't. 

Eyes that could have been mirrors of Cora's locked with his own, and he felt a deep longing for his family rising within him, tightening his throat and pricking his eyes with yet more tears. He ran his eyes over the child's face, imagining Cora, and even in his moment of intense grief and pain, he felt a sliver of comfort. His link to his pack was barely a thread, damaged by the wolfsbane in his blood and wavering as the life spilled from his body. He could no longer feel the presence of his mother, and it petrified him. It gave him the slightest of reassurances to convince his struggling, addled brain that the child in front of him was Cora. He pictured her as he felt cold begin to creep into his lungs, felt his heart splutter and spasm in his chest, felt an exhaustion in his entire being that trapped and buried him like wet concrete. Even though it was a lie, he took hope from the idea that in his last moments he was surrounded by his pack, the people he trusted and loved. Cora and everyone else was there, holding him and loving him as he fell away.

Voices bounced around him, and it took everything he had left to piece together what they were saying. Tired eyes watched with horror as the blonde woman placed her dagger into the child's hands and wrapped her fingers around them firmly, forcing the child to hold the lethal blade. 

"I don't want to do it," the child blurted, and their eyes poured tears as they stared at Derek. He finally realised then, what the blonde woman and Gerard were doing. Training up their next new hunter. Brainwashing the next generation into joining their cause. Derek felt a twisted sense of pride that the child had found the courage to refuse, despite the domineering authority figures trapping them in. The child was brave, like Derek hoped he was, and it somehow managed to ease his distress just a little. There was still good left in the world, even if he could barely see it. The child wouldn't grow up to be a vicious hunter like the other Argents had; they would be different. They would change things. They would make things right.

They could stop Derek's family from being hunted. They could protect his pack. 

Derek's brain was becoming slightly delusional, imagining the child saving his family from the hunters and keeping everyone he loved safe. Logically, he should have known that hunters would always be trying to murder his pack, and that one hunter quitting wouldn't change everything, or even anything - but his mind was beginning to shut down, and it clung desperately to any scrap of hope it could find as the lights in his eyes began to flicker out. He wanted, more than anything, to die knowing that his pack would be safe, and the child offered that hope to him like a drug. He swallowed it willingly. 

Derek stared at the child, wanting the last thing he ever saw to be something pure and hopeful, not twisted and ugly like Gerard. He finally noticed that the child was a girl, her dark hair cropped short, ending above her shoulders and tucked behind her ears. Her hands shook as she held the dagger, and her cheeks were splotchy and red from crying. Derek wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her, hug her; reassure her that it was okay. She didn't have to cry, his pain would be over soon. 

"Cora," he murmured, barely able to form the syllables, and the girl stared at him in confusion. She looked just like his sister when she was trying to do her maths homework, and the memory warmed him even as every cell in his body turned cold. 

He could feel the life leaving him now, colours dancing at the edges of his vision and a muffled buzzing noise sounding in the back of his head. He felt like he was made of lead, sinking down into the depths of unconsciousness. Things became scrambled, and he struggled to understand what was going on. All he could manage to do was keep his eyes on Cora, even as they began to glaze over.

But then the blonde woman was there, stealing Cora's attention from him. Her words were sharp, puncturing the thin layer of comfort Derek had managed to construct around himself. He floundered, suddenly feeling terribly isolated. It made something deep in him crack. He'd never felt so utterly alone as he did in that moment, when Cora looked away and his brain accepted that no one was coming for him and he was going to die. 

He was going to die, and he was going to die alone.

But then Cora was there, her large brown eyes gazing back into his, and he wasn't alone. He wasn't alone. Cora was there. He wasn't alone...

"Remember, this is the animal that took your mother," he heard a voice from somewhere above him say, the voice cutting and cruel, and Derek watched with terror as something in Cora's eyes hardened into hatred. He witnessed the exact moment Cora's childhood fell away, her innocence burned out of her soul without a thought. He could do nothing as the small girl became a small weapon, a mere marionette moving under the strings of the blonde puppeteer above her. He knew then, that nothing would change and that his pack would never be safe and that his death would be one of many, and it hurt him more than the bullets or the blades or the wolfsbane. Watching Cora's innocence and empathy die made Derek want to scream in a way that even Gerard's torture hadn't. The last of his hope shattered.

The blonde woman pointed, and Cora's eyes narrowed with determination. Vengeance for her missing mother pierced her eyes, changing them, darkening them, ruining them. Her demeanour changed, and she stopped being a scared, helpless little girl. She became a hunter, and the words of the Argent code seemed to wrap themselves around her throat and mind, as if she had stepped into them completely. Shedding her old skin, her hands tightened around the dagger firmly and the blonde woman's hands fell away, no longer needed. She was willing now.

Cora stepped forwards, her eyes leaving Derek's and drifting down to his defenceless torso. She eyed his wounds, choosing her target carefully. She was patient, cautious, her movements calculated and clever. It hurt to watch, but Derek couldn't look away, almost refusing to believe what was happening.

The huntress slammed the knife into Derek's soft stomach, blood spurting over her small hands as she lethally wounded him. The crimson blood specked her round face, ruined her delicate clothes and streaked her pretty hair. Her eyes met Derek's and the last thing he saw was his blood staining her face. 

Something in him broke.

Derek's eyes slid shut, his lungs straining to fill with air, and listened to the faint banging and shouting that echoed in his ears. He felt like he was underwater, but he didn't bother to try and swim; rather, he allowed himself to drown, unable to find a reason to struggle any longer. Agony dragged him down into darkness, and he willingly surrendered to the comfort of death.

The last thing he heard was the blonde woman's voice, sluggishly penetrating his exhausted, crumbling mind.

" _Good girl, Allison_."


	2. Chapter One: Three Bloods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the lovely support! :) I was so excited to actually be getting kudos and comments that I decided to finish this early so that I could post it for you guys!
> 
> Merry Christmas! Xxx
> 
> (Side note: apparently I’m super angsty. I had no idea lololol. I’ve been informed by at least 3 different people that I am the overlord of angst and I find that hilarious. I tried to make this chapter a bit happier but, well... some things happened >:) my bad heheh)

It had been exactly 10 years since Derek Hale died.

On the anniversary of his death, he stood barefoot on the cold tiles of his kitchen, drinking coffee and staring out a large window at his back garden and the forest beyond. It was early in the morning - just shy of 5am - and his keen werewolf senses detected little more than faint birdsong and rustling branches. Nothing was yet awake; the world was still and silent, slumbering a few hours more.

Derek had awoken from nightmares. Despite the young hour, his mind was sharp and clear, adrenaline spiking his veins and forcing him to remain alert. He had already accepted that he would not be returning to sleep that morning, and instead took a rare opportunity to gaze out at the morning mist and consider the day ahead of him.

Truthfully, there was not much required of Derek. He was to make an appearance for his mother's sake at an event she was hosting in town - an overly-fancy luncheon followed by endless meetings - but other than that single obligation, his diary was free. He had no formal duties to attend to, no job to rush to, no children to take care of. 

Derek should have felt relaxed, content, at ease... instead, he felt burdened and stressed, anxiety roiling in his stomach. He gripped the coffee mug in his hands hard, threatening to break the ceramic, and frowned at his glassy reflection in the window.

Perhaps it was true that Derek did not have much expected of him by way of work - but he placed substantial expectations upon himself. His lengthy mental to-do list only grew the longer Derek stood by the window, his anxious mind constantly finding new things he needed to do. He felt pressured, like he would never have enough hours in the day, but logically he knew that the only person placing pressure on him was himself. Common sense and mild panic warred in his head. Derek hadn't really been right - not since he was fifteen - and his mother knew that all too well. She took extra care to ensure no-one ever stressed him, or unnerved him, or scared him... but he felt stressed and nervous and scared anyway. 

He was always afraid in the back of his mind, like his subconscious was waiting for hunters to come running round the corner and grab him again, just like they had when he was a child.

Shuffling noises on the staircase alerted his sensitive ears that someone was coming downstairs, and Derek tuned his hearing onto the sound, turning his body to face the doorway. There was a familiar sliding of skin against wood, a soft brushing of fabric and quiet, sleepy humming. His mother. Only she ran her hand down the bannister, or wore a thick robe that brushed against the walls. Definitely only Talia would have the guts to hum in a house full of sleeping werewolves. If anyone else risked it and woke them, a riot would break out. The Alpha, however, could have played bagpipes as loudly as she pleased, and not a single wolf in the house would have had the balls to complain. Except maybe Peter.

The walls and floors of the house were relatively soundproofed, so that the daily sounds like Cora snoring or Peter admiring himself in the mirror didn't drive everyone mad. The werewolves had to focus if they wanted to hear the heartbeats, gentle movements and soft breaths that filled their home. It was comforting to be able to sense that everyone in the pack was alive and well, but an absolute mercy that they weren't subjected to the noise constantly. Derek spent enough time listening to Peter's voice as it was - he didn't think he could handle being subjected to it 24/7.

Talia Hale shuffled into the kitchen, looking less like an Alpha and more like a suburban housewife. She was snuggled in a thick, soft robe and fluffy slippers, her face calm and serene despite the ungodly hour. She seemed mildly surprised that Derek was awake, but it wasn't the first time she had found him brooding in the kitchen, unable to sleep. She slid the door shut silently, ensuring no one upstairs would be disturbed, and then approached her son with concern.

"Is everything okay?" Talia asked cautiously, lifting one hand and resting it on his firm shoulder, her fingers gently squeezing in a comforting gesture. Derek nursed his lukewarm coffee and avoided her eyes, knowing that his mother would be searching his face for clues. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

"I'm fine," he replied quietly, "how are you?"

The abrupt change of topic didn't go unnoticed, but Talia allowed Derek to distract her - for now. He was sure he would be questioned later, when she wasn't so stressed about meetings and pack politics, and he was perhaps a little less unwilling to talk. 

Talia let her hand fall from Derek's shoulder and drifted to the cupboards, making a cup of tea absentmindedly while she spoke. "I'm good thank you. I'll be busy today with the meetings in the town hall. You wouldn't mind picking Cora up today after school, would you? I can ask Laura if it's too much."

She was always doing that - dancing around Derek as if he was incredibly delicate. Talia seemed to be under the impression that if she asked Derek to get her a biscuit he might break. Much to his chagrin, there had been a time when almost anything was capable of setting him off, but he liked to think that he had grown and improved since then. His mother's overly-careful treatment of him only served as a reminder of how broken he used to be. He knew it came from a place of love, but that didn't stop it from being increasingly frustrating. He wished there was a way to wipe everyone's memories and be viewed through fresh, unknowing eyes. It was an impossible wish - everyone in Beacon Hills knew some version of what had happened to Derek Hale.

People didn't seem to realise that Derek wasn't who he used to be. Everybody changed - including him.

~

Two and a half hours later, loud thumping on the staircase announced the awakening of Cora Hale. Laura shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing at her face and yawning, and Cora flew through the doorway behind her, barely avoiding careering into Talia, who was making sandwiches at the counter. Peter strolled into the kitchen behind Cora, rolling his eyes and muttering about kids these days acting like five year olds. Cora, having turned 18 a couple of months before, shot Peter a dirty look before spinning her attention around to Derek, who was hunched over a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table. 

"Happy Death Day!" Cora sang, skipping across the kitchen and waving a hideously wrapped present in Derek's face obnoxiously. He glared at the rectangular present covered in neon green wrapping paper and completed with a bright pink and yellow bow, and contemplated setting it on fire.

"Cora!" Talia snapped, abandoning the sandwiches she had been making in favour of marching towards her daughter, disapproval written all over her face. Peter was watching with mild amusement from his position by the fridge, and Laura looked exasperated.

"What?" Cora said defensively, "you're always telling me to try and cheer Derek up because he's so grumpy all the time!"

Derek was overcome with the urge to slam his forehead into the table and strangle his younger sister. Cora had always been... lacking in sensitivity, and was what Talia liked to call "an enthusiastic individual". She didn't understand the word no and operated on a level of stubborn one-mindedness that was uniquely her own. If she hadn't been the youngest of the siblings, Derek would have guessed Cora was the next in line as Alpha. She certainly had the attitude of one. As it was, either Peter or Laura seemed the most likely candidates. Derek was pretty sure he'd been disqualified ten years ago.

"It's fine, mom," Derek muttered before Talia decapitated his younger sister. Alpha Hale was usually able to remain calm in any given situation, but when it came to Derek's mental health she was like a wild omega ready to tear the throat out of anyone that upset him. Her maternal need to protect him was extremely exaggerated, but Derek knew that it stemmed from an intense feeling of guilt for having failed him as a teenager. Ever since Derek had died, Talia had been massively overprotective of the son she nearly lost. It could be infuriating at times, but Derek tried to remember that Talia had been through just as much emotional trauma as he had. Being forced to feel her son's agony through the pack bond, while unable to do anything to help... it had changed her.

Cora had only been eight years old when it had happened, too young to understand what was going on. Even now, the version of events she had been told were extremely glossed over. Not even Talia knew everything - just what she had pieced together from when she found Derek's dead body lying in the reserve, and the things he had cried out while trapped in nightmares in the months afterwards. On more than one occasion, she had begged Derek to let her remove his memories, but Derek had adamantly refused. He knew that if Talia took his memories, she would see and feel everything that had happened to him. 

It would destroy her.

Derek snatched the present out of Cora's hands and shredded the ugly wrapping paper with his outstretched claws. A box of chocolates and a bright orange t-shirt fell into his lap. Cora grinned and held up the shirt for everyone to see.

 _Cheer up buttercup_ was printed in swirly writing beneath the image of a smiling sun and goofy cartoon cow. Derek scowled mutinously at Cora. Cora beamed at Derek like she was God's gift to the world. 

"My, it's just your colour, Derek," Peter commented with a smirk, withholding any more of his teasing when Talia levelled a frosty glare at him. When Talia turned back around, Derek heard him mumble something that sounded suspiciously like "really brings out your beautiful eyes".

"It's... um..." Laura was torn between laughing and smacking Cora upside the head. Apparently laughter won out, because she coughed to hide a snort of amusement and quickly busied herself pouring orange juice.

"It reminded me of you, Derek," Cora cackled, holding the horrific shirt up against his chest, "you and your sunny optimism. I figured, since, you know, you're the light of my life-"

Derek shoved Cora's gleeful face out of his personal bubble and threw the balled-up shirt at her head. He was prevented from inflicting any grievous bodily harm by the sound of tyres tearing across the driveway. Car doors slammed loudly and heavy boots raced towards the door. Derek's heart rate instantly spiked, fear flooding his system, and he struggled to get his panic under control. If he began to release chemosignals, Talia would know and make a fuss. Forcing himself to inhale and exhale slowly, Derek managed to control his heartbeat just as men burst through the front door.

"Alpha Hale!"

A group of werewolves Derek recognised as Betas belonging to Alpha Deucalion's pack ran into the kitchen, their faces shining with sweat and their lungs gasping for breath.

"What is going on?" Talia demanded sharply, striding towards the men and taking a defensive stance in front of her pack.

Derek stood from his chair slowly, readying himself for a fight. He shifted in front of Cora, who huffed and shoved past him, determined to get a good view of the unfolding drama. She looked ready to munch a bag of popcorn, not defend herself against invading wolves. Derek scowled at her immature attitude and eyed the man closest to Cora. 

"Hunters!" One of the men blurted, and everyone in the room froze. Cora stopped balancing on her tiptoes and glanced at Derek, suddenly uncertain. 

"What?" Peter demanded, no longer leaning against the fridge, his relaxed posture falling away as anger took its place. "Where?"

"They're about a day out," another werewolf supplied, straightening as his breathing returned to normal, "they're in a neighbouring town, travelling in black SUVs. We've counted at least eight, although there are probably more."

"What name...?" Talia couldn't bring herself to finish the question. 

"Argent."

A momentary silence filled the kitchen. A heavy weight seemed to be pressing on Derek's chest, making it hard to breathe. The tension was suffocating, Talia struggling to accept that her pack was once again in danger, and Peter looking ready to commit mass murder. Laura reeked of nerves, still unable to control her chemosignals properly. Derek was immensely grateful he had mastered the ability, because his entire body felt electrified with panic. He didn't want anyone knowing just how scared he was in that moment.

They were back.

His nightmares were coming true.

"Well, let's go quick some hunter butt!"

Cora's chirpy declaration sliced through the tension in the kitchen, drawing everyone's attention to her. She seemed bizarrely excited, as if the appearance of deadly hunters was a nice distraction to her otherwise boring day. Derek couldn't fathom just how stupid his sister must be.

Blatant stupidity aside, his sister's words managed to alleviate some of the stress gathering in the suddenly too-small room. Laura took several deep breaths, and Peter rolled his eyes, his shoulders relaxing a little as he unclenched his fists. Talia's eyes had begun to burn red, but they bled back to brown at Cora's announcement. The Alpha whirled around and pointed at her daughter.

"Don't test my patience," she growled, her fangs threatening to descend.

Cora scowled but lowered her eyes in submission. 

Another man appeared in the doorway, a phone pressed to his ear. "Alpha Deucalion has requested that everyone meet in Beacon Hills, Alpha Talia. He wants to discuss the threat immediately."

Derek frowned. It was risky of Deucalion to request a meeting on another Alpha's territory, especially without their knowledge or permission. An Alpha could take offence, particularly if they were easy to anger. Talia, however, remained cool and nodded in agreement.

"Tell him that the town hall has a suite of rooms already booked for a luncheon and meetings I was to hold today. They should suffice."

"Yes, Alpha Talia," the man agreed instantly, relaying the message into his mobile as he strode back outside.

Talia turned to her children and brother, expression fierce. "Fetch Malia and tell her the news," she instructed Laura, before turning to Peter, "round up the pack. I'll take the car, you take the van."

Peter pulled a face at having to drive a van full of teenagers to the town hall, but said nothing. He might not like the idea, but he liked disobeying his Alpha even less.

Talia pinned Cora with a stern look. "Behave yourself," she warned. Cora sighed but nodded.

As everyone scattered to follow the Alpha's instructions, Derek grabbed his car keys from a hook on the wall but was stopped before he could escape the crowded kitchen.

"Derek!"

He automatically turned at his mother's call and tried not to sigh. He already knew what was coming: another wave of Overprotective Momma Wolf. 

Talia led him out of the kitchen through the back door and into the cool morning air, attempting to give them a semblance of privacy. Derek knew the others could overhear their conversation if they wanted to, but ignored them in favour of focusing on convincing his mother of his sound mental functioning.

"Derek, I think you should stay at home," Talia said, as if the decision had already been made. Her assumption that Derek wouldn't be able to handle a meeting pissed him off rather spectacularly.

"And do what?" he snapped, anger already building in his chest. "Hide?"

"Derek, I just don't think you're ready yet-"

"It's been ten years!" Derek yelled, what little self-control he had evaporating. 

Talia's eyes flashed at the blatant disrespect. Derek met her crimson gaze, challenging her, and Talia's face displayed her shock. Derek hadn't gone against his Alpha like this in years. 

Derek felt like his mind was tearing itself in two. Half of him wanted to submit to his Alpha, agree to whatever she commanded and beg for forgiveness for his show of rebellion. The other half of him, the one that was currently winning, wanted to flash his eyes back and shift into his Beta form, wanted to snarl in her face and dominate. The clashing desires made his head hurt.

Derek felt his eyes begin to change colour and hurriedly blinked and looked away. It was only when he turned his head that he realised Laura was standing a few feet away, mouth hanging open. When Derek's eyes met hers she immediately turned her gaze to their mother. 

"I'm going to the meeting," Derek said with finality, refusing to look at his mother as he turned and strode towards the garage. He heard footsteps hurrying behind him, but didn't look back. The back door opened and closed, but Derek didn't look to see who had reentered the house and who was following him.

Derek yanked open the garage door, frustration curling inside him. He wasn't fifteen anymore. He didn't need someone to come swooping in to save him - he could save himself, thank you very much. And of all the things to save him from, a pack meeting! What, did his mother think he'd see other werewolves and run screaming? He could handle a simple meeting! Yes, he had nightmares; yes, he had anxiety; yes, he was well aware that he had all sorts of unresolved issues - but that didn't mean that he was some sort of glass doll. 

Just because he was broken, didn't mean he couldn't also be brave.

"Derek!"

Laura's alarmed voice came from behind him and he turned on instinct. He didn't like having people behind his exposed back, especially when he was on edge.

"What?" he ground out, eyebrows furrowing as he glared at her. It wasn't Laura he was angry at, but there was no one else there to take the brunt of his frustrations, so she was the unlucky victim of his misguided anger.

"Derek, you were challenging mom!" Laura said in scandalised tones, looking more bothered than Derek had expected.

"So?"

Laura was nearly beside herself at Derek's response. "So! You, a Beta, were going up against your Alpha! Do you know what could have happened if you hadn't backed down?!"

Derek's shoulders hunched and he folded his arms defensively. He was more than aware of how a challenge to an Alpha could end, he was just ignoring the various painful scenarios rather stubbornly. He could suddenly understand where Cora's rebellious streak came from.

When Derek didn't reply, Laura sighed as if the weight of the world had landed on her weary shoulders. She fixed Derek with a calculating look.

"You're not going Omega, are you?"

The unexpected question threw Derek off balance. His eyebrows raised and he gave Laura a disbelieving look. "No," he said firmly, as if the very idea was ridiculous - because it was. Why would he abandon his pack? His family?

"That's what it looked like to me," Laura huffed, planting her hands on her hips and giving Derek her best Big Sister Scowl. 

Derek returned her scowl just as moodily.

"I. Don't. Care."

~

The town hall was packed with werewolves when Derek arrived. He'd left the house before anyone else, eager to escape the disapproving stares that followed him. He felt strange, like he'd crossed an invisible line and there was no going back. A dull ache pulsed in his head, still there from when he had challenged his mother, and nothing Derek did would alleviate it. His pack bond was still in tact, but it felt slightly different now, as if disrespecting his Alpha had messed with it. It was bizarre. 

Derek didn't know how to explain the way he felt, but it didn't matter. He had no intention of telling anyone anyway. If he did, his mother was sure to drag him back to therapy like she had when he was a teenager - or, if she found out just how many problems Derek had been hiding from her for years - the nearest psych ward.

Derek stood silently in a corner of the main meeting room everyone had gathered in, his back pressed to the wall to prevent an attack from behind and his arms folded tightly in front of him. He knew he was giving off "don't touch me" vibes, but he didn't change his closed-off stance or expression. People staying away from him was good. It meant they wouldn't attack him... or god forbid, try to _talk_ to him. He didn't need questions about his past from people with no understanding of boundaries or privacy.

Derek was content to go unnoticed until the meeting ended, and was doing a relatively good job of flying under the radar when a brute of a man appeared in his periphery. The werewolves were beginning to get restless, impatiently waiting for Alpha Talia and Alpha Deucalion to arrive, and one of the weres pacing the floor was none other than Alpha Ennis. Derek's entire body tensed, but he remained still and silent. Perhaps he would simply blend in with the wall and remain hidden in the shadows.

Of course he didn't.

Alpha Ennis suddenly paused in his conversation with a group of men a few feet from Derek and began sniffing the air. Derek cursed every god he could think of as Ennis whirled around and fixed the cornered werewolf with a predatory grin. Ennis stalked forwards, stopping about a foot from Derek, and his sudden interest caught nearby werewolves' attention. Those who knew the two men began whispering among themselves as they realised what was about to happen.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here."

A crowd began to form around the pair, blocking Derek in, but he forced himself to remain calm. He'd dealt with Ennis before, he could do it again.

Of course, the last time he'd been backed up by his entire pack, including a snarling Talia and hissing Laura. Cora had almost wet herself with excitement, delighted at the prospect of getting into a fight. She'd been beyond disappointed when Ennis decided not to pick a fight with the entire Hale pack.

But there was no pack this time - just Derek. A single Beta against a volatile Alpha, and by the look of things, a group of his men, too.

Derek needed to diffuse the situation, and fast.

He knew Alpha Ennis wouldn't outright attack him, not with so many witnesses. At least, he hoped Ennis wouldn't. Probably. However, the man had a talent for pushing people's buttons, and if he managed to rile Derek enough to do something Ennis deemed an offence to his position as Alpha, he wouldn't hesitate to put Derek in his place. And by his place, he meant facedown on the floor.

As long as Derek didn't do something stupid - like that one time he called Ennis a pissy little poodle - he would be fine. The problem was, he couldn't promise that he wouldn't give in to the desire to curse Ennis into next year.

"Derek Hale," Ennis drawled, his eyes already flickering with specks of crimson, "the beloved son of _Talia_."

Ennis said Talia's name mockingly, as if she wasn't deserving of the title he'd purposely omitted, but Derek didn't rise to the bait. Going up against an Alpha - especially an Alpha that wasn't his own - was a fatal mistake he was determined not to make. Again.

It was hard to believe that Talia and Ennis had been good friends, once. But that was before Ennis decided to kidnap Victoria Argent without warning any of the neighbouring packs about his reckless plan, and inadvertently got Derek kidnapped and tortured. One stupid decision had utterly destroyed Talia's friendship with Ennis, and she had never forgiven him for what had happened. In fact, she actively blamed the entire disaster solely on Ennis.

Ennis had taken this sudden shift in opinion about as well as a brick to the face. The two Alphas were now sworn enemies, and every encounter they had shared in the last ten years had ended with cruel words and in one memorable instance, violent bloodshed.

"But you're _special_ , aren't you Derek?" Ennis asked, projecting his voice so that the whole room could hear. "You're the oh-so-precious three blood Beta. Isn't that right?"

Derek's fingers tightened around his arms, but he said nothing. He couldn't risk opening his mouth and asking Ennis how it felt to be a hamster. That would only end with two black eyes and a bloody nose.

The werewolf snarled at him, eyes flashing red before returning to their human colour again. Ennis was desperate to have a reason to shift and claw Derek's eyes out, but he didn't have one. Not yet anyway.

"How does it feel, knowing that the only reason you're still alive is because your bitch mother had to beg on her knees for another Alpha's blood?"

Derek's lip began to curl back, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to remain where he was. Insulting his Alpha so blatantly had made Ennis the focus of his wolf's most violent fury. The part of Derek that formed the pack bond was screaming at him to defend his Alpha's name and honour, to claw out Ennis' intestines and wrap them round his neck to strangle him. The submissive part of Derek wanted to bow to the Alpha's obvious power and authority, but he resisted that urge too. He remained stock still, watching Ennis with what he hoped were emotionless eyes.

"How does it feel," Ennis snarled, "to be a _blood thief?_ "

The crowd murmured at Ennis' accusation, and Derek realised what the older man was doing. He was trying to turn the werewolves gathered against him, as if he hoped he could stir up a mob to attack Derek so he didn't get his fingers dirty. It was a moronic plan. Few people would be stupid enough to attack one of Talia's Betas on her own territory when she was minutes away from arriving. However, exactly _zero_ people liked Derek enough to defend him against Ennis' taunting, especially since Ennis was an Alpha with a dirty reputation. Everyone seemed more than happy to remain a bystander. Derek was totally alone.

Derek didn't care about being labelled a blood thief, despite the term being extremely inflammatory in werewolf circles, on the same level as 'rabid omega' or 'bloodless bitch'. The term implied that Derek had forcibly taken an Alpha's blood against their will in an attempt to gain their power. The practice had once been widespread amongst desperate shifters, hunters and even humans, despite being mostly futile, but even though it had died out years ago, the insult remained. It implied that Derek was weak, power-hungry, morally corrupt and traitorous, almost like a shifter gone mad without a pack or anchor to centre them.

When Derek failed to respond to his latest spout of nonsense, Ennis curled his fists and drew his lips back in a snarl. His eyes flared bright red, the Alpha within him beginning to dominate. His fangs descended and sharp claws appeared, but his face did not shift. Ennis was walking the line between his Beta and human forms, close to losing control. 

His fiery eyes locked onto Derek's, and he grinned a feral grin.

"Bow down to me, you dirty little freak."

Instantly, Derek felt the compulsion to submit before Ennis. The Beta in Derek was ready to drop to the floor and bow its head, but he remained standing - albeit with much struggling - and glared back at Ennis. Derek could feel his body trembling slightly, desperate to shift and slash at Ennis' arrogant face, but he pushed his body back against the wall to prevent himself from advancing on the Alpha. It took every ounce of his concentration, but Derek remained standing, his brown eyes challenging the Alpha's red ones.

Ennis seemed surprised and confused that Derek had totally refused his command, but this quickly morphed into utter rage at the blatant disrespect Derek, a mere Beta, was showing him in front of a large audience. With a growl he shifted into his Beta form completely. His voice thundered around the room when he yelled his command at Derek.

" _BOW TO ME!_ "

The world slowed. Derek felt something inside him jerking, scratching, tearing furiously at invisible walls holding it back. It was like his soul had fractured and cracked, splitting in two. The subservient Beta in Derek was suddenly ripped away and buried as a new, frightening part of him reared its flaming head. He felt wild.

Derek's eyes flashed. He surged away from the wall, honed in on Ennis. 

He roared.

" **NEVER!** ”

The crowd stumbled backwards, people tripping over themselves to escape the enraged werewolf. Derek could feel his shirt tightening as his muscles bulged outwards. His claws were fully extended and his vision was altered. Everything was heightened. Blood raced through his veins, and his nose identified hundreds of scents drifting through the room; fear and shock predominated, the werewolves present unknowingly pumping out chemosignals that allowed Derek to know just how afraid they were in that moment.

Afraid of him.

It was a sobering thought.

Derek glared at Ennis for a moment longer, his rebellion burning in his eyes, and then turned away, stamping down on his urge to launch himself at the Alpha and rip his throat out - preferably with his teeth.

The need to submit to Ennis had vanished completely the moment Derek shifted, and with a sinking feeling in his gut, he realised why. He tried to shift back to his human form, to hide the evidence before it was too late...

But the damage was already done.

Frantic whispers whirled all around him as he stood, shoulders hunched and head bowed, in plain view of everybody. The meeting room was awash with gossip and lies already. Derek knew that by the following morning, poisonous rumours would be circulating Beacon Hills and beyond.

Derek fought against his shift, trying to use his anger to anchor him, but his anger had suddenly vanished. He was panicking, palms beginning to sweat as he realised just how badly he had screwed up. Ennis had failed before, when he had tried to stir up the crowd, because they had nothing to be angry about.

Derek had just handed Ennis a riot on a silver platter.

 _They know,_ Derek’s panicked mind screamed, _they know about my eyes._

Movement to Derek’s right caught his attention, and his head snapped towards it, anticipating an attack.

Instead, he found Laura, Peter, Malia and Cora staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths. Not even Cora was laughing. They were all frozen and silent, looking at Derek like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

They probably couldn’t.

Shame shot through Derek like a spray of bullets, and his head ducked. He kept trying to shift back to normal, but without his anchor he was struggling. His face was mostly human, and his fangs had receded, but his claws remained sharp and his eyes refused to turn back to brown.

Talia appeared then, Deucalion trailing her heel, and Derek took the momentary distraction their appearance provided to run, not even having to shove his way through the crowd. It parted for him as if he were Death itself, come to reign destruction down on Beacon Hills.

Derek sprinted to his car and tore out of the parking lot, his tyres spraying up gravel as he raced away. It wasn’t until he had put at least twenty miles between himself and the town hall that he finally stopped, killing the engine and sitting silently in his car, alone in the middle of nowhere.

Ennis’ words echoed in his mind.

_How does it feel to be a blood thief?_

Hesitantly, he reached up and pulled down his sun visor, flipping open the small mirror inside. He gazed at the slice of his reflection.

Brilliant blue eyes encircled with crimson stared back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh la laaaa!
> 
> I’ve been writing all day just to get to that reveal. Derek’s eyes are blue and red! Eeeeep!
> 
> Have a great Christmas, wherever you are in the world :)


	3. Chapter Two: Three Titles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: imma have an update written by Friday
> 
> Also me: *liessssss*
> 
> I’m sorry lol. Here’s an update, a week late. Enjoy! :)

It didn't take long for Peter to find Derek. When he did, it didn't take for long Derek to realise that Peter was furious.

When his uncle appeared, racing towards where Derek was parked, carelessly breaking the speed limit in the family van, Derek felt his shoulders tense and hunch. Fear seeped through his skin and blood and solidified, turning to cold, heavy stone. His stomach didn't just drop, it plummeted, and his heart began slamming against his rib cage with violent desperation. Derek wanted to run, but he forced himself to remain seated in his car, clenching his hands to prevent his fingers from turning the key and making a panicked getaway.

Derek was many things, but he hoped that he was not a coward.

Sour determination filled Derek and he slowly reached over and opened his car door. He climbed out of the car as Peter pulled up in front of him, the van lurching as he slammed on the brakes. Derek took a deep breath and forced himself to remain where he was. This confrontation would happen sooner or later; he might as well deal with it now, before things got any worse.

Before Derek could even open his mouth, Peter exploded.

" _Why didn't you tell us!?_ "

Peter's words were carved from anger, but they were also streaked with confusion and hurt. Derek tried not to focus too much on how betrayed his uncle sounded. Despite the man's many flaws, Derek loved him, and he hated knowing that he had upset someone so important to him. Not that he would ever admit that, of course.

Derek was about to begin defending himself, but apparently Peter's rage hadn't quite subsided yet because his rant continued, his hands making jerky, frustrated movements in the air and eyes blazing with a storm of emotions. 

"We're supposed to be your pack! Your _family_! You're supposed to trust us!"

Peter was now only two feet away from his nephew, chest heaving and muscles clenching. His posture was rigid and stiff, tension coiling in his body and in the air between the two werewolves.

Peter forced himself to stop and take a deep breath, fighting down the urge to shift into his Beta form. His gums were aching and the skin of his jaw itched as he fought to stop fangs and claws and fur from making an appearance. Losing control would only make things worse.

Derek watched his uncle fight his emotions in silence and shame. Doubt about his decision to keep so many important things hidden suddenly slammed into him; he struggled to remember why he had kept so many secrets as regret began hissing in his ear and scorching down his spine like acid.

"Do you not trust us?" Peter asked quietly, his burning blue eyes abruptly melting to a betrayed brown. "Is that why you didn't tell us?"

"What? No! Of course I trust you. We're pack."

"Then why the hell didn't you say anything!? You didn't tell anyone, not even me or Talia!" Anger returned to Peter's voice and he had to stop and take a deep breath, his fingers digging into his palm.

Peter's accusations were making Derek defensive, his fists tightening reflexively. He didn't shift, but he knew he could easily lose control if he wasn't careful. The last thing Derek wanted was to say or do something he'd regret; something that would hurt his family more than he already had.

Familiar scents caught Derek's attention, and he was horrified to realise that Laura, Cora and Malia had all stepped out from the back of the van. He hadn't realised they were there, and his heart only sank further when he saw their expressions. Laura looked upset and Cora was clearly lost and confused. Malia was the only one who didn't seem that affected, but her eyes were cool when they locked with Derek's and her arms were folded. He looked away.

"How long have you known you had two shifts?" Peter demanded, frustration making his words hot and sharp.

"A year," Derek muttered. His answer only seemed to irritate Peter even further.

"A year," Peter repeated like he couldn't believe it, anger and disbelief making his words bitter, "a whole year. You've known for a year and you said nothing."

"It's not technically two shifts," Derek said defensively, scowling at Peter's condemning tone, "I can Beta shift but I can't Alpha shift. Only my eyes change colour. I'm not like mom. It's nothing."

"Your eyes turn blue and red, Derek! _Blue and red!_ That's not nothing!"

Derek and Peter glared at each other for a few long, painful moments before another thought struck Peter and fuelled his anger once more.

"Was it the blood ritual? Or did you do this intentionally?"

The suggestion that Derek had tried to gain the power of an Alpha for himself made rage roar up inside him. Ennis' words once again whispered through his mind, _blood thief_ , and hurt stabbed through his chest. Did Peter really think he would do such a thing? That Derek would actually try and steal another Alpha's power?

Derek suddenly felt small and alone. Really, really alone.

"I would never do that!"

"Oh, and you would never keep secrets from your pack either?" Peter retorted, his words like blades and eyes like flames.

"I'm twenty five years old. I don't have to tell you everything," Derek ground out. He knew his excuse was weak and immature, but he couldn't help it. He was just as angry as Peter now, the erupting argument stabbing into the most sensitive and easily irritated parts of himself. The last ten years of his life had been filled with his mother looming over his shoulder, constantly fretting that he was too fragile or weak or hurt. It had created a desperate need for privacy and space within Derek that loathed other people's tendency to stick their noses into _his_ business. As far as he was concerned, his problems were his to know unless he decided otherwise. Nobody had the right to his mind or his life.

Of course, it wasn't that simple, and Peter knew it.

"This doesn't just affect you, Derek!" Peter yelled, "it affects all of us! Do you even realise what you've just done? You've just handed hundreds of people evidence that taking an Alpha's blood will make them more powerful. There will be chaos! Alphas could be hunted again like they were during the Dark Ages. You've put so many people at risk. Your own mother's life is at risk! Don't you think people will be after her blood now? Don't you realise that every morally corrupt Beta, Omega or even _hunter_ for a hundred miles is now going to be making her their number one target?!"

"I know!" Derek snapped, shame, guilt and frustration tearing up his insides.

" _Then why didn't you say anything!?_ " Peter roared, his anger finally exploding. His eyes snapped back to a supernatural blue and his claws extended fully. Laura rushed forwards and put a shaking hand on his shoulder, whether to calm Peter or hold him back Derek wasn't sure. Peter's gaze remained fixed on his nephew, face morphed into a snarling mask of rage.

"Because there's nothing you could have done!" Derek yelled, "it didn't matter if you knew or not. You couldn't do anything about it anyway, so there was no point. I don't need mom worrying about me even more than she already does."

"You should have told us," Peter snapped, "we could have tried to find a solution. We could have gone to Deaton-"

"And done what?" Derek interrupted angrily, "strip me of my power? Drain me? _Kill_ me?"

"We would never do that! Why would you-"

"Oh yeah? And what other solution is there?"

Silence crashed through the air, smothering the five werewolves. Peter opened his mouth and closed it twice, unable to answer.

"Having partial Alpha powers is not my fault," Derek forced out between gritted teeth, "and I'm not going to stand here and listen to you lecture me about the consequences of something that wasn't my decision or choice." Derek's eyes tore into Peter's and the loud anger that lay there. "Not when you've been through the exact same thing."

Shock rippled across Peter

"Could you be any more hypocritical?" Derek finished scathingly, his storm of emotions sharpening his words more than he had intended. 

"I wasn't the one hiding a secret that could put everyone's lives at risk," Peter replied accusingly, but his words had lost a lot of their heat. He seemed uncertain now, as if he wasn't sure who he should be fighting anymore.

"No. You also weren't the one whose life was on the line," Derek spat. "If your survival was dependent on absolutely nobody finding out that you're part Alpha, don't think you would maybe, oh, I don't know, tell _absolutely fucking nobody?!_ "

Peter didn't have a response for that. 

"I don't understand," Laura said softly, her eyes holding Derek in a sad stare, "why didn't you trust mom? You could have told her at least, she would never have said anything, could have even tried to get help-"

"And what, Laura? Make her worry even more? Have her trust me even less than she already does? Lose what little independence I've got left? She still thinks I'm broken beyond all hope; imagine how she'd be once she realised I'm 'broken' _and_ dangerous - she'd lock me in the house and never let me out again."

"Deaton-"

"Deaton would have been forced to report me to the Lunar Council. He's our emissary, not our friend. He has other loyalties besides us. Something this big would be illegal not to report immediately. I'd be taken before the Council and sentenced to be stripped of my powers-"

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Cora suddenly exploded. "No one would strip your powers! Mom would never let that happen!" 

Derek watched her outburst with outward disinterest but inner fondness. Cora was stubborn and rebellious and insensitive, but she was also fiercely loyal and protective and brave. She was _good_. The thought of someone on the Council condemning Derek to a life as a weak, frail human was incomprehensible to her. Cora might deny it until the day the moon fell out of the sky, but she was still young and naïve and blissfully ignorant of how cruel the world could be. She didn't remember the war between the Hales and the Argents. She didn't understand that not even Alphas were all-powerful. She had yet to learn that sometimes bad things happened to good people and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Mom wouldn't have had a choice," Derek replied without anger, his words firm but without heat, "the Council would have deemed my unnatural shift a risk to everyone. They would have ruled to strip me of my powers to hide any evidence that blood magic actually works. The last thing they want is another century of Alphas being hunted for their powers."

Cora stared at her brother, refusing to believe what she was hearing. Denial was written across her face and laced through her words. "No, that wouldn't have happened. That's not fair. They couldn't just-"

"Cora," Derek snapped, and her words died instantaneously, "they would have ripped my wolf right out of me, and if the process didn't kill me, it would have driven me insane. You know what losing their power does to a werewolf."

"But what if they only took out the Alpha part-" Cora tried again desperately, still clutching to hope. She still believed in happy endings. Derek couldn't remember the last time he had felt pure, optimistic hope like that. Certainly not in the last ten years. He'd spent the last decade festering in self-loathing and loneliness.

"It doesn't work like that. You can't control what part of a werewolf's power you take."

Peter let out a frustrated sigh and Derek's eyes swivelled back to his uncle. The Beta momentarily closed his eyes, a sudden exhaustion slumping his entire body and draining it of the last of his anger and tension. Derek knew that Peter finally understood his decision to keep his eye colour hidden. His uncle might not like or agree with the decision, but at least he _understood_ it. That was all Derek wanted. Understanding would hopefully mean that Peter would be able to forgive him.

Peter leaned his head back and took a deep breath. He knew Derek was right; tampering with a werewolf's power was extremely dangerous. Only the most desperate werewolves even attempted it. Of course, Talia had been beyond desperate when she found Derek's body lying in the middle of the reserve, bloodied and beaten, heart silent and still. She had been willing to do almost anything to save him - including a risky and controversial blood ritual that required the blood of an Alpha to resurrect a dead werewolf. It had to occur beneath the light of a Worm Moon, and Derek was ridiculously lucky that he had died only a day before one occurred. 

Talia had followed the ritual, spilling her blood under Deaton's careful instruction... but the ritual had failed. Derek's heart had remained cold and unmoving, its familiar beat horribly absent. His mother was wounded and weak from fighting, her body still recovering from wolfsbane poisoning courtesy of an Argent hunter, and her blood had not been enough to save his young, broken body. Talia was too weak to be able to save him, and they didn't have the time to wait for her to recover and regain her strength. They only had one night, while the Worm Moon was full and bright, and their time was already nearly up.

To make matters worse, Derek's body was still filled with the wolfsbane the Argents had tortured him with, and his body was damaged almost beyond repair. Perhaps if Talia had been healthy and stronger, and Derek's wounds hadn't been so vicious, the ritual would have succeeded. But life was rarely fair, and Derek remained trapped in the clutches of death.

Years later, Laura confessed to Derek that Talia had been nearly hysterical when she realised the ritual had failed. She hadn't just cried; she had sobbed and screamed, begging Deaton to do something - _anything_ \- to save her son. Deaton had quietly told her that it was too late. There was nothing he could do. They needed the blood of an extremely powerful, healthy Alpha, and nobody with that kind of power was willing to sacrifice some of their blood for a dead child they didn't know. 

Crouched on the ground, her knees soaked with her own child's blood, Talia had howled so brokenly that werewolves for miles around had heard and bowed their heads in sorrow. No pain had ever been expressed so agonisingly as the screams of a mother hunching over her dead child. Laura said the pack bond had trembled and weakened as their Alpha fell apart; she had been walking the line of turning feral. The very thought made Derek sick: his mother, a strong and courageous Alpha, reduced to a snarling and corrupted Omega, wild and loveless. He still carried guilt that his mother had been so utterly broken she had nearly lost her humanity entirely.

Alpha Deucalion of a neighbouring pack, an ally of Talia's, had appeared by her side like an Angel come to rescue her in her time of greatest need. He had gazed upon a woman so ruined by grief words had failed her, and in an act of selfless grace, given her mercy. Deucalion offered his own blood, knowing that he was healthy and barely injured. The blood of two Alphas combined was more potent and he hoped would be enough to overcome the severity of Derek's injuries.

Satomi Ito, a friend of Talia's and a kitsune Alpha, also offered her blood. Deaton had slit the wrists of all three Alphas beneath the moonlight, filling Derek's body with a combined force strong enough to bring warmth back into his skin, air back into his lungs and life back into his body.

The blood of the three Alphas had saved Derek's life.

He had been in a coma for three weeks afterwards, and for the next two years hadn't even been able to shift. He had been extremely weak physically and mentally, his body struggling to function and his mind battling with horrific memories of cold basements and silver daggers. Deaton had suspected Derek had PTSD, and under the emissary's advice Talia had taken Derek to the nearest counsellor for lengthy therapy sessions. He was forced to endure them for five years before he finally convinced his mother that he didn't need to be treated like a glass doll anymore. Talia walked on eggshells around him, and forced everyone else to do so as well. 

She'd had her reasons, of course. Talia had been at Derek's side every time he woke screaming from a nightmare; every time he fainted when he saw a silver knife; every time the smell of wolfsbane or blood made him vomit and tremble; every time he cried and cried and just wouldn't stop, no matter what anyone said or did. Talia had been there for it all, and perhaps witnessing all of that, more than anything else, had been what triggered the change in Talia. She become protective to the point of suffocation, hellbent on making sure that no one ever hurt her son again.

"But it's not necessarily a bad thing, is it?" Cora tried once more, doubt crumpling her face into a frown. "It's not your fault, and it's pretty harmless-"

"My eyes are proof that it's possible to steal an Alpha's power just by taking their blood. That is the Lunar Council's worst nightmare."

Cora was silent. Laura, however, had been struck by an uncomfortable realisation.

"This is why you were able to challenge Ennis and mom, isn't it?" she asked quietly, "you're part Alpha now. Their compulsion doesn't work on you."

"It's less effective," Derek corrected tersely. 

Derek could see Cora's mind spinning, her thoughts crashing around in her head as she started to put puzzle pieces together. Abruptly, a startling realisation clicked together and caused her entire face to pale and drop in horror.

"But... the Council will find out now," Cora whispered, her eyes widening as she spoke, "someone will tell them."

The implications of her words hung heavy and silent in the cold air between them.

~ ~ ~

Peter had been furious, and then resigned. Laura had been upset. Malia had been cool and detached. Cora had been confused and then panicked.

Talia was... everything, and then some.

Derek had been ordered by Peter to return to the pack house, where Talia, Deucalion and Deaton where anxiously awaiting him. Derek had been tempted - very tempted - to refuse, but he didn't want to make things worse than they already were. Begrudgingly, he followed the family van back to the Hale home. He was ambushed the moment he stepped through the front door.

"Derek!" Talia practically flew towards him, her arms outstretched and face painted with panic. When she came close enough, she reached to grab his face in her hands, as if checking for injuries. Instinctively, Derek stepped backwards, avoiding her touch. Talia looked momentarily hurt, but Derek couldn't help it. He hated unexpected grabbing. It made him think someone was going to stuff him in the back of a van and drive him to a cold, damp basement with chains and knives and blood and...

Derek blinked and forced himself to focus. His mother was in a mild frenzy, Deucalion watching with a small frown from a few feet away. Deaton was also nearby, his expression carefully neutral, but his intelligent eyes cataloguing everything.

"What happened?" Talia demanded, regaining some control of herself as she realised that Derek was not injured - physically, at least. She still had some reservations about his mental wellbeing.

When nobody said anything, Cora made the horrible decision to open her mouth and vomit words everywhere.

"The ritual you guys did to save Derek ages ago turned him into a half Alpha and now the Council is gonna kill him!"

Talia's face dropped. Her entire body froze up at the weight of Cora's words. " _What?_ "

"Cora!" Derek hissed. For the love of god, did she not have the sense to not just blurt out things like that? Did she even understand the meaning of the word "sensitive" or "finesse"? 

Peter looked like he wanted to take a long walk off a short pier. He fixed Cora with a withering glare and sighed a sigh of great suffering. "The Council isn't going to kill him," he rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling as if patience might be found there. "Yet, anyway," he muttered under his breath. His sarcastic end note didn't do anything to help alleviate the shit storm Derek had suddenly found himself in.

Talia looked like she was three seconds away from an aneurysm. Thankfully, Deaton chose that moment to intervene.

"When you say half Alpha, what exactly do you mean?" he asked in a calm, professional tone, walking towards Derek as he spoke.

"My eyes turn red, that's it," Derek huffed out, "I'm _not_ an Alpha. Everyone is overreacting."

Malia rolled her eyes hard enough to make Peter proud. Laura scoffed condescendingly, apparently having progressed from being upset to being pissed. 

"Oh yeah? And what about the fact that you can suddenly disobey an Alpha's command?" Laura asked scathingly, arms folded right across her chest. "That doesn't strike you as a little odd?"

"You can directly disobey an Alpha?" Deaton sounded shocked, and in Derek's experience, shocked Deaton was rarely a good thing. Derek didn't know what the significance of this discovery was, but he was willing to bet that it was bad.

Derek could literally feel himself sinking further and further into the shit that just kept on coming. His life really was the gift that kept on giving.

"How do you think he got into this mess in the first place?" Malia asked with another condescending eye roll. "He literally told Ennis to go fuck himself." Suddenly, she seemed mildly amused.

"Language," Peter murmured automatically, his parenting skills finally deciding to make a momentary appearance, but he was smiling. "And that's _Alpha_ Ennis to you, kiddo."

"That would suggest he deserves my respect," Malia retorted, and this time even Talia smiled slightly. Ennis did not have any friends in the Hale pack.

"Touché," Peter chuckled, giving his daughter a look filled with far too much love and affection, considering the situation they were currently in. Yet somehow, despite everything, they had found and forged a moment of happiness and quiet comfort. Derek could literally feel the love radiating between father and daughter, pulsing along the invisible lines of the pack bond. 

Of course, Derek should have known by now that happiness never lasted.

Alpha Satomi Ito, a powerful werewolf and close friend of Talia's, strode through the ajar front door without knocking. Her eyes locked onto Talia's and didn't leave them the entire time she spoke.

"The hunters are coming," was all she said, but those four words were enough to bring Derek's world to its knees.

~ ~ ~

The hunters had originally been estimated to be 24 hours away, but the latest intelligence from a neighbouring pack revealed that they had made an unusual decision: they were cooped up in a hotel in a town on neutral territory, loaded to the eyeballs with weapons and traps and supplies, doing absolutely nothing.

The Argents had decided to show up on the tenth anniversary of Derek's death and their defeat in the war against several werewolf packs, and now they were doing nothing? It didn't make sense. Peter had made that much perfectly clear.

"Why would they risk their lives just to camp out in some crappy hotel in a completely human town?" Malia questioned the air, frowning down at a map that had been spread across the kitchen table and weighted down with apples from the fruit bowl.

"Maybe they want revenge," Cora suggested doubtfully, shrugging and scooping another spoon of ice cream into her mouth. She had recovered from the turbulent events of earlier in the day and returned to her normal, insufferable self. 

"If they wanted revenge, they wouldn't be sitting a day's drive away in a 2 star hotel eating breadsticks," Derek said in a mocking tone, "they'd be shooting us in the head."

Cora blinked in surprise. Derek's harsh words seemed to have had more of an effect than he originally intended, but he didn't regret it. Cora didn't remember the war the way he did. To her, it was a story. To him, it was a horrid nightmare and poisonous memory. Cora forgot all too easily how terrible it had been, taking a frustratingly nonchalant view of history as if it hadn't really happened.

It had. Derek had the scars to prove it.

Talia, Deucalion, Deaton, Satomi, Peter and a handful of others had been locked in Talia's office since Satomi's abrupt arrival. The walls of the office were soundproof, meaning the rest of them weren't privy to whatever they were discussing. Derek figured it was either the hunters, him, or a combination of both.

He hoped it was the hunters.

Laura sank down onto the sofa and closed her eyes, rubbing at her temples. She looked strangely exhausted, despite having done nothing strenuous. Derek wondered if he should go over and attempt to comfort her, or if he would only make things worse. Laura was still pissed at him - as was pretty much everyone, except Cora and possibly Peter.

Derek wanted to leave, to escape the tense atmosphere that was slowly filling every corner of the pack house. It was sorely tempting to run, but he couldn't make himself abandon his siblings. Not now. The hunters were close by; his family was in danger. He needed to protect them.

Derek would never let Cora - or anyone else - go through what he did.

Derek pondered Satomi Ito's words. She had declared that "the hunters are coming" - but they weren't. That was the whole point. The hunters _weren't_ coming to Beacon Hills, they were sitting on their asses a couple towns over, fiddling with their shotguns and Legolas-wannabe bows and arrows, doing absolutely fuck all. Yes, the hunters' arrival was new levels of disturbing, but it hadn't turned into something to panic about just yet if all they were doing was dicking about in a hotel. Why was Satomi so worried? Why had all the powers that be locked themselves in Talia's office and refused to come out for over an hour?

 _Something's missing_ , Derek thought to himself, scowling down at the tiled floor, _there's something they're not telling us_.

Derek might have hated having people interfere in his life, but in an ironic twist, he hated being left out even more. Not knowing what was going on was number two on Derek Hale's list of "shit I hate", right behind homicidal, maniacal hunters. It made him feel out of control, and Derek needed control. He _needed_ control for reasons he could only partially explain. The desire for control had only surfaced within him ten years ago, after he woke up from a coma to scars all across his body and a sobbing mother. Not being in control while things went south all around him tended to elicit a rather fiery flight or fight response within Derek, because losing control made him feel powerless. Feeling powerless brought back memories he had spent ten years trying - and failing - to forget.

Derek felt like he was sliding around on the icy cliff of control, and the hunters were about to push him over the edge.

Derek could smell faint traces of fear clinging to Laura, and it made him aware of his own inner turmoil. He was angry, but mostly he was scared. He could disguise his feelings a lot better than his siblings, and he was never more glad than in moments like this: when he was close to crying or yelling or screaming, but knew that he had to keep it all together for the sake of his pack. 

Derek's priorities were simple: keep his family safe from harm at all costs. Everything else was secondary, including himself. It was what was keeping him planted firmly in the kitchen, uncomfortable and anxious and tense as he was, because there was currently no one else around to protect his siblings. That meant it was his job. It didn't matter how upset or tired he was, didn't matter how much he wanted to turn tail and leave; his feelings on the matter were completely irrelevant. This wasn't negotiable. Derek would stay until either the hunters were deemed to be no longer a threat, or Peter and Talia returned and the pack fell back under their watchful eyes. 

Laura was currently in no state to protect anyone, half asleep on the sofa and drooling on a cushion, so Derek stood guard and eyed the windows and doors as if they had personally betrayed him. Cora and Malia continued to discuss conspiracy theories in hushed tones, until they eventually realised that they were no closer to solving the mystery than they were quantum physics and general relativity, and promptly resigned themselves to waiting around for the adults to eventually emerge and spill the beans. Cora flopped down on the sofa and began binge-watching Netflix, muttering to herself about something called klance Derek was certain he didn't want to know about. Malia began rooting around in the fridge, munching pretty much anything that came within her reach.

Derek leaned against the wall, arms crossed and frown etched into his face, eyes flickering between his family and every possible place the hunters could attack them from, and waited.

~ ~ ~

It was one hour and twenty four minutes later that Derek finally got an answer.

One of Deucalion's Betas had momentarily left the office to use the bathroom, and when he returned, hadn't closed the door properly. He had been on his phone at the time, and everyone else in the room had been too distracted to notice. They were in the middle of a rather heated argument.

"We can't wait for the hunters to strike first. Every minute we wait is a minute they spend planning and preparing, ready to strike. The more prepared they are, the more dangerous they are. We have to attack now, before they get the upper hand-"

"We can't just storm onto neutral territory and declare war! Have you forgotten that there is a town full of innocent civilians? _Human_ civilians, who won't just magically heal up if we accidentally shoot one of them!?"

"So we'll just wait around for them to shoot us, is that it?"

"Of course not! Instead of thinking offensively, we need to start thinking defensively. Setting traps and getting ready to protect ourselves-"

"We can't just be sitting ducks-"

"We don't even know if the hunters are here to attack. We can't murder them on a hunch. Try explaining that one to the Council."

"You think the hunters just randomly decided to show up exactly ten years after they killed own of our own? Ten years after we chased them off our land? And they just happened to bring half the gun shop with them?"

The voices were all sniping at each other, everyone full of emotion and tension, but severely lacking in calm logic or reason. Derek couldn't recognise a lot of the voices, especially at the speed they spoke at, but he did recognise Deaton when he finally spoke.

"It would be inadvisable to put so many innocent lives at risk by storming the town," Deaton said calmly but firmly, "especially since the hunters have not yet engaged us. While unlikely, it is possible they are not here to start another war."

"Why in the ever loving fuck are they here then?"

" _Ethan_ ," a voice reprimanded, sounding suspiciously like Alpha Deucalion.

"My apologies," Ethan sounded pissed, but restrained themselves from further flowery, fiery language.

"It is possible that they are protecting something," Deaton suggested, "they may have found something of value in the town that they don't want us to find out about."

"If they didn't want us to find out about it, sending a small army was a strange way of staying under the radar."

"They must know that we have discovered their arrival by now. They're not exactly hard to miss. They're not even trying to hide! It's like they're _flaunting_ their presence, trying to provoke us..."

"That is also a possibility," Deaton said, "but I would not recommend any violence towards them. Starting another war would not be wise. Acting as the instigator would be a sure way to lose the Council's support."

"The Council!" someone scoffed. "They've said fuck all in response to our requests for assistance. And we all know why they're hesitating to do anything-"

" _That's enough_ ," Talia's voice was icy and sharp. Everyone in the office fell silent.

Derek glanced around the open plan kitchen and living room, suddenly reminded that he was not alone and had been distracted by his eavesdropping. Laura was passed out on the sofa, and Cora was engrossed with her iPad, headphones blaring the noise of some tv show filled with adults pretending to be teenagers. Neither of the girls had noticed that the office door was slightly open and leaking out enough information to keep them gossiping for days. Malia had gone for a run half an hour ago, ignoring Derek's warnings with an eye roll and only escaping his glare when she promised not to leave the preserve and stay within a ten mile radius of the house. Derek was certain she hadn't returned since. He was the only one aware of the argument unfolding upstairs.

"Deaton, what do you recommend we do?" Peter finally broke the tense silence, stealing Derek's attention once more.

"I'm not sure," Deaton admitted, "but I would not attack the hunters without a justifiable cause. I do not need to remind you how deadly they can be."

"They murdered a werewolf. That sounds like a pretty justifiable cause to me."

"Ten years ago. And that werewolf is currently alive and well. Their own side was not without losses, but they couldn't save their injured. They lost more than we did."

"Alpha Satomi is right. They might have killed Derek, but we were able to bring him back. There would be nothing to gain by attempting to avenge him. We didn't lose him."

"Are you sure about that?" Peter muttered.

"I am aware that Derek suffered, especially mentally," Deaton responded, as calm as ever, "but do you really want to risk the lives of so many werewolves, especially when Derek has recovered and moved on?"

It was bizarre, hearing people talk about him when he wasn't there and they didn't know he was listening. Derek was surprised at how angry and bitter Peter sounded. 

"You didn't have to spend six months holding him while he screamed," Peter snarled, and Derek felt his heart stutter in his chest. Shock, fear and panic all pulsed through his veins. 

"That's enough, Peter," Talia said gently, her quiet voice managing to hold both sympathy and authority. Derek wasn't sure if the slight tremble in her words was a figment of his imagination or not.

The office was engulfed in a horrible silence again, until Deucalion eventually broke it with a cautious suggestion.

"We could summon a Spark."

There was a slight pause in which no one said anything, and then the office erupted.

Several voices all spoke over each other at once, battling for dominance in the crowded room. Derek struggled to fully understand what was being said, but he managed to pick out certain phrases and sentences. Someone was declaring that Sparks were a myth; someone else announced that they were all doomed if they were relying on a fairytale to save their asses. While multiple voices debated if Sparks were real or a fantastical legend, a different voice began listing off reasons why summoning a Spark was a terrible idea: namely that it would never work and they would all die. Several people agreed; even if Sparks were real, no one had managed to summon one in years so there was no point in trying. A man announced the time limit hanging over their heads was reason enough to not waste time trying to do a magical ritual no one alive had pulled off.

A female werewolf only worsened things when she said she thought it was a great idea; the ensuing argument quickly dissolved into name calling and copious amounts of growling. Only the Alphas demanding that everyone shut their mouths and stop squabbling like five year olds managed to silence the room once more.

"Sparks are definitely real," Deucalion said with a touch of amusement colouring his tone, "I've met one."

Murmuring started up again, but just as quickly fell silent. Derek could only assume that the Alpha had given the room a frosty glare.

"They are, to the best of my knowledge, real," Deaton confirmed. "While I've never summoned one, I have a colleague who claims to have carried out the ritual. It is, after all, relatively simple."

"So why don't we just do it then? What's stopping us?" a male voice demanded.

"The ritual itself is simple. The _requirements_ for the ritual... they are a little trickier."

"What requirements?"

"The person that summons the Spark has to meet a list of criteria," Deucalion said. "The Spark I met could only be summoned by a witch or banshee with sufficient power and particular qualities... I believe intelligence was one of them."

"So let's find a witch then."

"That would not work here," Deaton explained, "we would have to summon the Spark using the power of the Nemeton. As it currently lies on Hale land, the Summoner would have to meet the requirements of the Hale pack: the Triskele trio."

"The Triskele trio?" Peter repeated doubtfully. "I thought that was a myth. It's impossible to fulfil."

"What is it?"

"The Triskele is the symbol of the Hale pack," Talia's voice broke through the background mumbling and rose above the rest, "it serves as a reminder that a Beta werewolf can rise to be an Alpha, or fall to an Omega."

"The Summoner has to fulfil the requirement by being all three," Deaton explained.

"All three? At once?! That's not possible!"

Voices once again began to protest before they were forced into silence by the Alphas. Derek could only imagine the strain Peter's eyes must have been feeling from the no doubt constant rolling.

"That is only the first requirement," Deaton continued, his voice somewhat subdued, "there are two more - hence the name Triskele trio."

"Let me guess, they're equally impossible to achieve?" someone asked with a sarcastic sigh.

"The Summoner has to fulfil three threes; essentially, they must be three of something significant. The first and most obvious is the three titles: Alpha, Beta and Omega. The other two are not set in stone and can vary. Sources on the subject disagree, but the last person believed to have successfully summoned a Spark belonged to three families and filled three significant roles: philosopher, warrior and guardian. It is also thought that being a father, brother and son would work, or mother, sister and daughter, but that is merely speculation."

"You also have to belong to the Hale pack," Peter added, before reciting, " _the Nemeton only grants a Spark to the hand // of a member of the Pack that has claim to the land_."

"You know the rhyme?"

Derek could imagine Peter shrugging. "Most children do. I never actually believed it."

Derek disagreed; he had never heard a rhyme about a Triskele trio, or even a Spark, and he was pretty sure Cora and Laura were just as clueless as he was. Talia's limited number of bedtime stories and songs had never featured the Nemeton or strange magic spells - mostly they'd been about wolves and packs and family. Now that he thought about it, Derek realised that love had been a prominent theme in all of the stories Talia had told them as kids. It made something in him ache. He wanted so badly to go back to a time before the hunters, before the ritual, before everything. Back when he still believed, trusted, hoped.

That was gone now.

"What if we had three Summoners?" someone suggested.

"It has to be one," Deaton replied, "or the spell won't work. A bond is formed between the Summoner and the Spark. If there was more than one Summoner, the bond would be too weak, and it would break."

"The ritual is designed to be almost impossible to complete for a reason," Deucalion continued, "Sparks are very powerful beings. If just anyone could summon one, there would be chaos. Imagine if the hunters could summon an army of Sparks. The devastation would be unimaginable. We would return to the Dark Ages... or worse."

"We'd be extinct by Monday," Peter quipped with fake cheer.

"It is thought that by being able to fulfil the Triskele trio, the Summoner is proven to be worthy of the Spark," Deaton elaborated. "They are humble and respectful like an Omega; dutiful and loyal like a Beta; and brave and strong like an Alpha."

"Omegas aren't humble and respectful. They're wild mutts!"

"That's not true," someone snapped defensively. Derek wondered why they were so touchy about the subject.

"You are thinking of a wild, feral Omega," Deaton corrected. "The Omegas you think of are packless. It is possible to be an Omega and still belong to a pack. The dominating trait that defines an Omega is isolation and solitude, often accompanied by loneliness and a yearning to belong. They are traditionally seen as being at the bottom of the pack, and their pack bond is often weaker than normal. Werewolves may choose to be Omegas, or an exile may be imposed upon them. The exile can be temporary or permanent. A temporary exile would turn a Beta into an Omega for a period of time, before restoring them to their original status. It is not a pleasant experience, and can having lasting effects."

"If you can choose to be an Omega, can't Alpha Talia just choose to be one and complete the ritual? She fits the mother, daughter, sister requirement too."

"It's not that simple. You have to actually _be_ an Omega," Deaton said with a slight sigh.

"Plus, that still wouldn't satisfy the Triskele requirement. That's only two out of the three. Beta is still missing."

There was a contemplative pause as the werewolves struggled to think of a way to solve the problem posed by the Triskele requirements. _The requirements certainly do their job_ , Derek mused. They were literally impossible to fulfil. 

Noise remained absent from the office for a surprisingly long time. When someone finally spoke again, they swung conversation in a direction that would change Derek's life forever.

"Your son-"

"Leave Derek out of this!" Talia snarled, instantly defensive. It amazed Derek that the werewolves _still_ hadn't learned. Talia had a handful of particularly sensitive soft spots, and you _did not touch them_ if you wanted to remain alive and with all four limbs still attached. Derek happened to be one of them. He imagined that the mess he was currently in with the Lunar Council had only exemplified Talia's sensitivity and irritability.

"I wasn't trying to offend you," the werewolf back-pedalled instantly - a wise move, Derek thought - but continued to voice their suggestion in a move that was two parts brave and thirteen parts stupid, "but I thought... well, he could fit the requirements."

Shock exploded through Derek's mind, leaving him reeling. He could fulfil the requirements? How!? He was only a Beta...

_Except he wasn't._

__

__

_Derek was **part Alpha**._

The epiphany scrabbled through Derek's ribcage and seized his heart. It squeezed tightly, making it impossibly hard to breathe or move or even think because _he could fulfil the requirements_.

"It's still only two-" someone began, voicing the same problem that had occurred to Derek, but his frantic brain was already rocketing towards a solution. _It could really work_.

"But he could become an Omega-"

"And he's a Hale! It would fill the-"

"I AM NOT EXILING MY SON!"

Talia's roar silenced the room like a knife slitting through throats. She was so enraged that Derek could _feel_ her anger sizzling through the pack bond. Laura jerked awake, lifting her head from the sofa, and Cora paused her tv show, removing her headphones and staring at Derek questioningly and with a touch of fear. Talia's bellow had echoed throughout the house with enough force that even Malia had probably heard it, despite being miles away. Derek absently wondered if the polar bears had heard it too.

Eventually Deaton cleared his throat. "The ritual is very dangerous. A man in Poland died attempting it. The Summoner would have to be willing-"

"Derek is NOT doing that fucking ritual!" Talia snarled. Her swearing made Cora's eyebrows shoot into the stratosphere, and Laura's mouth dropped open just a little. 

"It's okay, Talia," Alpha Satomi said soothingly, "Derek is going to be fine. No one is going to hurt him." Talia snarled again.

"No one is touching Derek," Peter added darkly, his voice a promise and a threat.

Cora and Laura were fully alert now, their eyes wide and hearts beating faster the more they heard. Derek realised they had no idea what was going on, having missed most of the conversation. He wondered for a moment if they thought their brother was being exiled. Judging by the looks of their faces, they were rapidly coming to that conclusion.

The silence that lasted was a long and horrible one. Derek could faintly smell the emotions filling the air of the office and drifting down towards him: fear, confusion, anger, frustration, protectiveness, loyalty and determination. He couldn't tell who was feeling what, just that someone was supremely pissed. Several someones, judging by the strength of that particular scent. Smelling anger was like breathing in spice or powered chilli; a hot, sharp scent that made Derek want to wrinkle his nose or sneeze. 

"It might work," someone blurted, sounding slightly scared but determined to speak their mind anyway. Derek didn't know whether to admire their courage or condemn their blatant idiocy. "We should at least consider exiling him, even if just as a last resort."

Cora paled, and her eyes slid from where they had been staring at the ceiling to Derek's frowning face. She dropped her tablet and headphones, but Laura clamped a hand over Cora's mouth to stop her from making any noise. Laura put a finger to her lips and Cora nodded, but her body was trembling slightly and her eyes were wide and slightly glassy, pupils reduced to pinpricks as the smell of fear began rolling off her skin in waves. 

Derek was shocked by how emotional he felt, watching his younger sister's fear at the thought of him being exiled. He'd never really known how much he meant to his sister; if she actually liked him or just barely tolerated him - but it was written clearly across her face in that moment that she was terrified.

Cora was terrified, because she loved him. The realisation made Derek feel soft and sad and so, so, so ridiculously happy that he wanted to smile and cry and hug her until she punched him. He didn't know why he'd never known it before now, and if Cora could read his thoughts she'd probably strangle him, or scream about how stupid he was, of _course_ she loved him, but still. It was easy to _say_ you loved someone. It was a lot harder to actually prove it.

After all, actions spoke louder than words.

" _It's okay_ ," Derek mouthed, but Cora didn't seem to understand, so he pulled out his phone and typed out the message as a text. When Cora read it, her panic subsided somewhat, but her skin reminded pale and still smelled of fear.

In a rare moment of affection, Derek strode across the living room and pulled Cora into a tight hug. Usually, he avoided 'feelings' like the plague, but it felt important to comfort Cora. Certainly more important than his own apprehension and anxiety. Derek had never admitted it, but hugs made him feel trapped. There was little difference between the feeling of having arms wrapped around you in love and warmth, and having arms wrapped around you in anger and attack, as they pulled a hood over your head and dragged you backwards into a van.

Derek suppressed a shudder when Cora's skinny arms clamped around his torso, clinging to him as if terrified that someone was about to rip Derek away from her. He felt strangely warm inside, a sense of love and loyalty and an overwhelming need to _protect_. Derek knew then, regardless of what his mother roared-

He was doing the ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teacher: so you got 61% on your Chemistry mock exam.
> 
> Me: a C? Oh, okay.
> 
> Teacher: are you disappointed with your result?
> 
> Me: nope.
> 
> Teacher: ‘,:|
> 
> Me: at least I didn’t cheat.
> 
> Me: *gives legit everyone else in the class the good ole stinkeye*
> 
> I may have the lowest mark in the class, but I also have ~my honour~
> 
> (Not that my Chem teacher seems to agree with this sentiment, but whatever. If she thought I was gonna revise over Christmas, she can think again lol!)
> 
>  
> 
> _apologies for the delay between updates, I had mock exams (which are thankfully over now!) so I couldn’t get as much written. My writing schedule should hopefully return to normal now :)_


End file.
